Page:Ludus Coventriae (1841).djvu/140

Joseph. A! lord God, benedicite!
Of thi gret comforte I thank the,
            That thou sent me this space.
I myght wel a wyst par-dé,
So good a creature as she
            Wold nevyr a donne trespace.
For sche is ful of Grace;
  I know wel I have myswrought,
I walk to my pore place,—
  I aske fforgyfnes, I have mysthought.

Now is the tyme sen at eye,
That the childe is now to veryfye,
            Whiche xal save mankende,
As it was spoke be prophesye;
I thank the, God, that syttys on hye,
            With hert, wyl, and mende,
That evyr thou woldyst me bynde
  To wedde Mary to my wyff,
Thi blysful sone so nere to fynde,
  In his presens to lede my lyff.

Alas! ffor joy I qwedyr and qwake;
  Alas! what hap now was this?
A mercy, mercy, my jentyl make,—
  Mercy! I have seyd al amys;
Alle that I have seyd here I forsake:
  ȝour swete fete now lete me kys.

Mary. Nay, lett be my fete, not tho ȝe take,
  My mowthe ȝe may kys i-wys,
            And welcome onto me.

Joseph. Gramercy, myn owyn swete wyff,
Gramercy, myn hert, my love, my lyff,
Xal I nevyr more make such stryf
            Betwix me and the.